


This is Our Deep Reality, Love

by narkao (sophluorescent)



Series: Venus Verse [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, Guns, Inspired by Pygmalion and Galatea (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Selfcest, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22954084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophluorescent/pseuds/narkao
Summary: Sometimes, he forgets that everything hangs on a string—a string of code.Its severance pierces like a knife.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baekhyun
Series: Venus Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647361
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	1. My Artificial Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I was going to take a break and work on fest pieces before I continued the story, but... I have no self-control. 
> 
> This is unbeta-ed (I'm sorry) and a continuation of the events of **Venus, Have You Given Me a Blessing or a Curse?** Not immediately following the events of Venus, but like, in vaguely the same time-frame. 
> 
> Please pay attention to the warnings, and, if you enjoy reading, do let me know via comments or kudos (hell you can even @ me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/syzygybbh))

“Come here, you need maintenance.”

“Mhm, that’s fancy,” Baëkhyun murmurs, crawling over to sit cross-legged on the couch next to Baekhyun. Baekhyun’s brought a few of his tools home. Baëkhyun hadn’t known for what reason until now. “What are you fixing? Am I not perfect already?”

“You’re beautiful,” Baekhyun says, brushing the clone’s hair out of his face. He smiles gently, impossibly charmed by Baëkhyun. “But, you got a few scratches in that scuffle the other day. I’m just going to give you a little polishing. Maybe give you some new programs.”

The “scuffle” he’s talking about had happened a little too-quickly and out-of-the-blue for _either_ of them to really avoid it. It had also been Baëkhyun’s first interaction with someone… hexed—as Baekhyun had described it. Some bounty that had _lost_ her _mind_ while Baekhyun was giving her a quote for some new cyberware.

Thankfully, Junmyeon had been present—helping Baekhyun to subdue the sick individual. Neither of them had wanted to kill her, so they locked her out on the street for the C-SWAT team to deal with. Baëkhyun had been too shaken to question them at the time.

“What did you mean when you said she was _hexed_?” Baëkhyun asks, peering into Baekhyun’s box of tools. He’s better at picking out each one’s specific uses now. He’s glad to see that none of the tools Baekhyun selects are used for large procedures.

“There’s something called CIRS. Only humans can get it. It’s when the human brain and body reject a cybernetic implant. Sufferers tend to… lose control of rational thinking. C-SWAT is the team delegated to… subduing them,” Baekhyun says. His voice is low, almost haunted. He’s clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

Baëkhyun purses his lips, then, reaches out and tips Baekhyun’s chin up—redirecting his focus off his tools. “Are you going to get it?” he asks. Immediately Baekhyun shakes his head, his eyes wide. “Then, don’t worry about it,” Baëkhyun continues, brushing his thumb against Baekhyun’s lip. “Worry about _me_ ,” he grins cutely, hair flopping back into his face.

Baekhyun’s serious mood melts away immediately. “I’m always worrying about you,” he says. “Now be still. I’m going to put you to sleep for a little bit—just in case. I don’t want to worry _you,_ after all.” Baëkhyun snorts petulantly, but remains still as Baekhyun wires him into his computer and subsequently puts his system to sleep.

Baekhyun’s careful to catch the clone as he slumps, gathering him in his arms and laying him out. He works quickly, hating the silence, but distracting himself with the opportunity to regard Baëkhyun with an artist’s eye once more. He’s always breathtaking, and Baekhyun’s craftsmanship was certainly part of the reason, but… it’s Baëkhyun’s liveliness that makes him charismatic. Otherwise, he’d appear _too_ false, _too_ cold, _too_ artificial.

He wakes him up after an hour of repairs. Baëkhyun hadn’t been damaged too badly in the sudden fight with the cyberpsycho, but Baekhyun hadn’t liked the reminders of both his and Baëkhyun’s vulnerabilities. That it was just as possible for him to lose Baëkhyun as it was for Baëkhyun to lose him.

Now, though, Baëkhyun blinks up at him unscarred, unblemished—again, a perfect version of Baekhyun.

“Is there something on my face? I thought you were fixing me-” Baëkhyun asks, eyebrows knitting.

Baekhyun laughs, shaking his head, and leans down to kiss him. It’s a soft, cuddly sort of kiss where they’re mostly smiling against one another’s lips. When Baekhyun pulls back a breadth, just to gaze down at Baëkhyun, he can’t help but feel dazzled.

Then, Baëkhyun scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue, playful and cute. His hands settle on Baekhyun’s waist, not merely holding, but tickling.

They tussle with each other, precarious considering how thin the couch is, until they both fall with an _umpff_ onto the carpet floor, Baëkhyun atop of Baekhyun.

Instantly, the mood shifts. Baëkhyun gazes down at his creator almost lazily, his eyes half-lidded, his body languid. He places one hand on Baekhyun’s chest, effectively pinning him, and the other disappears beneath the hem of his shirt, climbing up his chest unseen until it no doubt pinches his nipple.

He gasps, delighted.

“Your program worked,” he says idly, feeling up his chest, letting out little sighs and whimpers—just barely rocking back against Baekhyun’s lap.

Baekhyun’s mouth is so dry, his brain short-circuiting, that he almost doesn’t process Baëkhyun’s words. And when he does, the moment takes on a whole new meaning. “It feels good, then?” He asks, his voice raspy.

Baëkhyun giggles, agreeing with a nod of his head.

Baekhyun worms his hands out from under himself and puts them on Baëkhyun’s thighs, sliding them hot and heavy up Baëkhyun’s bare legs. The effect on Baëkhyun is immediate—his head drops back and he moans almost shyly. “ _More_ ,” he breathes.

Baekhyun laughs, breathless, and slides his hands up inside Baëkhyun’s shirt, gently pushing Baëkhyun’s hand away and replacing it with his own, pinching and tweaking the robot’s nipples. He’s breathless, surprised the programming even worked, but so, so glad that Baëkhyun gets to share in his physical pleasure much more _wholly_ now.

“Is this what it’s like for you?” Baëkhyun hums, circling his hips lethargically.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun says honestly… “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“So good,” Baëkhyun agrees, his eyes fluttering shut.

They could go farther, right here on the floor, but Baekhyun’s phone rings. And it’s not the generic ringtone he uses for just about everyone—it’s the specific rhythm he uses for Junmyeon. It’s not a call he can miss.

He sits up apologetically, gently unsettling Baëkhyun from his lap. He stands up, adjusting his sweatpants, and strides over to the kitchen counter his phone’s sat on. He doesn’t want it to go to voicemail. Then, Junmyeon will get pissy.

He answers, glancing back at Baëkhyun, who’s continued to feel himself up. His face is more frustrated now, and his gaze when it meets Baekhyun’s is dark, heady, and desperate for attention. Baekhyun holds the receiver away from his mouth for a moment, “Go wait for me upstairs,” he says.

Baëkhyun blinks, then, his face splits into a grin. Baekhyun returns to the conversation at hand. “Yeah, I’ll meet him at yours. If I work with him, though, I want you to make sure he’s never got a locator on me.”

Junmyeon relays some more information.

“Yeah, I’ll meet with him when I get up. Should be sometime tomorrow afternoon. No, I don’t want to meet him tonight. I have plans,” he pauses, “so you can gossip about my sex life? No thanks.” Another pause. “Baëkhyun is doing just fine, don’t worry about him. _No,_ he’s not going to get jealous.” Baekhyun quirks a smile, amused.

“Goodbye, Junmyeon. Remember, tomorrow afternoon. I won’t be late.” He hangs up the phone and puts it on silent, pocketing it.

When he enters his bedroom a few minutes later, it’s to the sight of Baëkhyun sprawled out on his sheets, his back arched, toes curled, two fingers hidden between his legs.

Heat pools in his groin.

“You got started without me?” He teases, shedding his clothes and crawling onto the bed. He situates himself between Baëkhyun’s spread thighs, smoothing his hands against the supple flesh before grasping two handfuls of his ass. Baëkhyun grins, breath stuttering, and pushes himself against Baekhyun’s grip.

Baëkhyun sighs, “I couldn’t wait. It’s all _new_.” One of his hands creeps up his neck and chin, fingers splayed across his lips. He bites down on the tip of them.

Baekhyun bites his lip, ducking his head down to tongue the length of his clone’s cock. Baëkhyun sighs—he’s really much more quiet in bed than Baekhyun ever was—and rolls his hips up against Baekhyun’s face.

Rewardingly, Baekhyun sinks down on his cock, hollowing his cheeks and setting just the pace _he_ likes. It’s clearly good for Baëkhyun too, if the way his thighs shake and his voice stutters out completely is anything to go by. “Fuck _me,_ ” he whispers, biting his lip.

Baekhyun blinks, then pulls off his cock with a _pop_ , kissing his way up Baëkhyun’s stomach and chest, biting down on his neck, his collarbones. A hand wraps around his cock, guiding him against Baëkhyun’s hole.

He sinks in, moan echoing out into the room, rumbling through his chest. He props himself up on his elbows, thrusting slowly.

Baëkhyun’s eyes squeeze shut, lip turning white beneath his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of him. A shiver runs up his entire body, his face slackening. His insides tighten around Baekhyun’s cock, already proving _so, so much_.

“Already?” Baekhyun murmurs, nuzzling against Baëkhyun’s neck, kissing and mouthing at the artificial tendons. “Is it that good?”

“It’s so good,” Baëkhyun whimpers, meeting Baekhyun’s thrusts again, slowly regaining his senses. “It’s so different, so good,” he repeats, eyes blinking open and locking onto Baekhyun’s.

How someone who can’t even _sweat_ can look so debauched is a mystery to him, Baekhyun thinks idly, flipping them so that Baëkhyun lies on his stomach, cock rubbing against the soft, silk sheets beneath them. He slides back home, setting a more brutal pace.

Baëkhyun arches around to kiss him. The angle is strange, difficult, but they make it work.

Baekhyun comes minutes later, panting open mouthed against Baëkhyun’s lips, his hips stuttering uselessly, hair matted to his face. Baëkhyun talks him through it, whispering little endearments, little “I love you”’s, in Baekhyun’s ear. Then, he’s turning—Baekhyun’s cock slipping out of him—and wrapping Baekhyun in his embrace. “I’ll clean up,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair.

He goes to sleep easily, content to let Baëkhyun take care of him.

***

“Will Junmyeon be there?” Baëkhyun asks curiously from his place on the bed. The sheets tangle around his naked legs, impossibly twisted, but he’s yet to make any move to free himself. Which would be all well and good— _if_ Baekhyun didn’t have somewhere to be.

He shrugs a hoodie on over his head, pulling the hood up over his head, and then grabs a leather jacket to layer on top of himself before he answers the clone. “Of course Junmyeon will be there,” he says patiently, “he owns the place.”

“You own _Sangseung_ , but you’re not always there,” Baëkhyun counters smoothly, mentioning Baekhyun’s ripper-station. He’s almost petulant, his lips bordering on a pout, but he’s not annoying. Never annoying—though, occasionally, he could be frustrating.

“Point taken, but—for the future—if the place is open, he’s there. That’s just how Junmyeon is,” Baekhyun says. Then he turns and snaps his fingers. “C’mon now, get dressed. I don’t want to be late.”

Baëkhyun seems to slink out of the bed. He moves so slowly, so languidly. Of course, he can’t feel the chill of the cold on his skin, so he _has_ no reason to rush into some clothes. “Who are we meeting, anyways?” Baëkhyun asks, tugging on a black turtleneck and then, an oversized white tee. He pulls on some black sweatpants as Baekhyun answers.

“Kim Jongin. He’s one of Sehun’s glitterboy friends.”

“Glitterboy?” Baëkhyun asks, cocking his head and following Baekhyun downstairs to the garage.

“Rich people. People who live out in the East,” Baekhyun says, grabbing his keys and jingling them in hand. “He’s important because, for one, he’s got a lot of money, and, for two, he’s got way more connections than Sehun. He’ll bring us _wealthy_ clients. Sehun was new money, new fame. Jongin promises something more established,” he explains.

Baëkhyun nods understandingly and slips into the passenger seat. He reaches down and grabs the rifle Baekhyun keeps in his car. It had taken a while for Baëkhyun to agree to even let Baekhyun program him for combat situations, but now that he has, they’re both significantly safer when driving through the Westriver Districts.

He balances the rifle across his lap as carefully as he can, drumming his fingers on his knee as Baekhyun drives them out of his garage, through the Lower District, and into the more commercial zone on this side of the river. He parks right outside of _Butterfly Effect_ , and quickly ushers Baëkhyun inside, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone that looks out of the ordinary.

It’s not that he’s _expecting_ something to go wrong, or for a trap to be waiting for him, but… Kim Jongin is the son of one of the Elyxion Corp’s top executives and Baekhyun really doesn’t get along too well with corpos.

Butterfly Effect is as it always is: calm, atmospheric, blue. One of the artificial barmaids looks up, focusing on him. As a laboring robot, she’s not been made to look human, so Baekhyun can physically _watch_ as her motors rotate, the computer inside her head recognizing him and preparing a response. “Mr. Kim is in the lounge already,” she says, voice monotone.

Baekhyun nods, thanking her, and tugs Baëkhyun in the direction of the lounge, not missing the way the clone’s eyes stay glued to the other robot. Despite working in and out of Baekhyun’s shop and traveling with him around the city, he’s yet to get used to the more inhuman ones. Baekhyun wonders, briefly, if it actually messes with his mind—like some sort of sick self-awareness that he _isn’t_ _real_. Because, really, if Baekhyun never saw another robot, he could forget Baëkhyun’s artificiality. Maybe Baëkhyun would be the same, and start to think he’s human.

He brings his attention back to the task at hand, letting himself inside the private lounge, then locking the door behind Baëkhyun. When he looks up, he instantly meets the gaze of perhaps the _most_ beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Kim Jongin is an Adonis on Earth. His skin is a smooth gold, even under the blue lights, and his eyes twinkle with a seductive warmth. He sat with crossed legs, elegant even though he’s slumped into the cushions of the couch, and nurses a cigarette in hand.

“You’ll ruin your teeth, smoking that,” Baekhyun says in greeting.

Jongin lets out a slow exhale, smoke curling up the ceiling. Just the smell of it is making Baekhyun’s fingers twitch, his heart pumping as he remembers the moderate nicotine-high he used to chase, but, he restrains himself for asking for one. He’s here to make an impression, not to give in to old vices.

“Maybe,” he says easily, sitting up, resting his hands in his lap. His gaze is interested, flicking between the Baekhyun who had spoken to him, and the similar one standing at his side. “I didn’t know you had a twin? Figured Sehun would bring it up sometime?”

“Mhm, not a twin. And, since you mentioned it, where _is_ Sehun? He was supposed to come, wasn’t he?”

“He’s probably sucking cock in the corner booth,” Jongin says idly, seemingly indifferent. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, ready to leave—it’s never a good sign when meeting start going off the plan. If Sehun is not here, Baekhyun doesn’t want to be.

But, just as he readies himself to depart, the door at his back clicks open once more. Sehun lets himself into the room, his eyes significantly dazed, his gait just a little too uncoordinated for someone who’s typically graceful. “Two addicts, it seems,” Baekhyun comments, finally sinking into his seat on the couch as Sehun collapses into Jongin’s side. “Together?”

“Just friends,” Jongin clarifies, tucking Sehun into his side. His gaze flits between Baekhyun and his clone once more. “And you two?”

“Mhm… it’s complicated,” Baekhyun chooses to say, finally reaching out and pulling Baëkhyun down into his lap. The clone relaxes as Baekhyun does, curling against his chest harmlessly. At that moment, Junmyeon appears, passing Baekhyun his usual and Baëkhyun one of the new robot-friendly drinks he’d been testing as of late. Jongin takes notice.

“You bought a pleasure bot with your own face,” Jongin says, eyebrows raised in shock. Baekhyun can see how he’d make the mistake. After all, Baëkhyun is built from a pleasure-bot lab—it’s why his skin is so realistic, his hair so soft, his eyes so lively—but, his sculpt, his programming—that’s all Baekhyun’s doing.

“He’s not bought. A lab cannot create something with his degree of consciousness. I _built_ him,” Baekhyun says, carding his fingers through Baëkhyun’s hair, always gentle, always caressing.

Jongin seems far more interested at this revelation, finally straightening up under Baekhyun’s gaze. “You’re good, then. Just as Sehun said.”

“I’m the best,” Baekhyun says, his gaze strong under Jongin’s appraising one. “Sehun would only buy from the best, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes,” Jongin agrees, looking at his friend—snoozing against his side. His face is gorgeous, even in sleep. He looks as if he’s been carved from ivory. And, in many ways, he has been. Baekhyun had fine-tuned his body to perfection (not that Sehun wasn’t beautiful before) and preserved what glamour Sehun already possessed. “How much do you charge?”

“You already know my prices. What was true for Sehun’s operations are true for yours.”

“Even though I’m richer?”

“Even though,” Baekhyun agrees, “I’m not a _con_ -artist. I’m an _artist_. I have a reputation to uphold, and a personal integrity to my work and its value.”

Jongin sits back, mulling his options. Of course, even if Baekhyun _is_ the best, there are others. Others that are cheaper, or safer, or less-secretive about their work. If Jongin is to seek working with Baekhyun, he has to go out on a limb and trust a stranger with access to his entire person.

Everything can be hacked. Jongin just has to decide if Baekhyun will be the one to hack _him_.

“Do you have other examples of your work?” He asks curiously.

“I’ve done work on Junmyeon, and—if you’re familiar with her—Kim Taeyeon? She’s open about her enhancements, which is why I mention her. The rest… you’d have to ask around. I don’t play the name game.”

Baëkhyun shifts, then, “Am I not enough?” He sits up, reaching out to Jongin. “Feel my skin, look into my eyes, listen to me speak. Am I not a work of art?”

Baekhyun watches, similarly curious. Baëkhyun doesn’t often make himself known during inquiry meetings. But, his presence is not unappreciated. Baekhyun gets to watch as Jongin slides his hand up Baëkhyun’s arm, as he cards his fingers through Baëkhyun’s hair, as he presses a coaxing thumb to Baëkhyun’s lips.

“That’s enough,” Baekhyun says icily. Baëkhyun glances back, then leans back towards Baekhyun, away from Jongin.

Who now sits back, deliberating once more. “Fine, when’s the earliest you can make an appointment?”

“I can perform the operation at any time from now into the next week. I have all the parts needed, and all the programs written.”

“For someone so good, your schedule’s suspiciously free,” Jongin says.

“I’m an effective worker,” Baekhyun shrugs, “and I like to give my clients options.”

“Let me bring Sehun home, then, I’ll meet you back here,” he says, “I’d like to have it done tonight, since you’re available.”

Baekhyun nods, shaking Jongin’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

***

Just because Jongin seems trustworthy enough doesn’t mean Baekhyun trusts him, which is why, as soon as he and Sehun disappear in a sleek, black holo-car, Baekhyun immediately relocates back to _his_ shop, the _Sangseung_ , leaving directions behind with Junmyeon.

An hour later, Jongin arrives at the shop, Yixing walking in tow. Though shorter than the celebrity, Yixing’s more intimidating, his cyberware proudly on display, his expression set sternly. Baëkhyun immediately flocks to him, leaving Baekhyun to lead Jongin downstairs, into the operational part of the shop. “I thought we agreed I’d meet you back at the bar,” Jongin says, following Baekhyun into his workshop. He takes a look around—he’s cautious in a way that Baekhyun almost appreciates. He’s tired of getting people like Sehun or Minseok who are so flippant about his work.

Jongin actually seems to understand just _how_ fucked up this place really is.

“I don’t like to play sitting duck,” Baekhyun says simply, patting the operation chair. Jongin sits down as Baekhyun walks around and readies all of his instruments once more, tugging mechanical arms down from the ceiling and attaching tools to their ends, as well as pulling up the paper designs he keeps for all of his enhancements. “Anyways, let’s run through this one more time. You’re paying for wired reflexes and an accelerated healing program in addition to an ocular implementation.”

“Yep,” Jongin says, popping the ‘p.’

“The ocular implants are programmed to passively run a facial recognition software and then displays the subject’s information. This is continuous, and only shuts off in the event that you are alone, or your eyes are closed,” Baekhyun makes sure to explain this fully, it’s an enhancement that often causes sensory overload. “I can additionally calibrate it to log itself in an online server. In the event that your system is disabled, all of the footage leading up to that point will be available for investigators to refer to,” Baekhyun says.

“How much is the added calibration?”

“Does it _really_ matter, Glitterboy?”

Jongin holds his gaze for a moment, then, cracks a grin, leaning back into his seat. Baekhyun straps his wrists to the arms of the chair, and then, attaches the wires from the computer to Jongin’s port (which rests just behind his ear and is currently absent of his locator chip—thanks to Junmyeon).

Given the physical, wired connect, all Baekhyun has to do to put Jongin under is to input a temporary malware that’ll stifle his consciousness. His body will function as needed, but, the connection between it and the brain is temporarily severed. He’ll wake up feeling like he’d only blinked his eyes.

So, Baekhyun sets to work. At some point, someone comes to join him—most certainly Baëkhyun—and begins to work on the eye that Baekhyun isn’t already working on. Baëkhyun follows the directions he’s told with ease. After all, he and Baekhyun are two sides of the same coin, and, with all the work Baëkhyun’s been doing around the shop _prior_ to tonight, such a procedure really _is_ familiar now.

Two artists working side by side, it seemed.

Jongin’s procedure is completed in an hour, the time halved by the fact that Baëkhyun worked alongside him. When he wakes Jongin, he can already tell that the man’s surprised. “How long?” He asks.

“An hour,” Baëkhyun says kindly, offering him a bottle of water. “Hyun-ah and I work well together,” he continues as Baekhyun begins returning all of their tools to their respective places.

“You were program-heavy. Cosmetics, like the procedures I did for Sehun, take a lot longer because they require more… presently performing craftsmanship. Programs I can write weeks in advance though,” Baekhyun says, sliding a drawer shut and peeling his gloves off his hands, disposing them in the trashcan below his desk. “Anyways, Yixing will take you back to the _Butterfly Effect_ , where you can pick up your locator from Junmyeon. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Jongin nods, sitting up. “And is this thing on?” He says, pointing at his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re not getting a read because we’re both SINless. System has nothing to work off of.”

“It doesn’t even go through the facial recognition software?”

“If someone’s SINless, it’ll typically display a warning. Lower left corner of your vision. You should see text?” He waits until Jongin nods. “That’s the indication that the software has nothing to work with. If you see it on someone who _should_ have it—people that aren’t ripperdocs or, as Yixing is, solos—then, you should heed it. They’re probably not someone you can trust.”

Jongin absorbs all of this information readily, and then, he stands up. Baëkhyun takes his hand and leads him back upstairs, where Yixing’s probably waiting.

A few minutes later, Baekhyun follows him up. The Sangseung’s lounge is very similar to _Butterfly Effect_ by way of aesthetics, except that the mood lighting is a deep red and the couches and coffee tables are somewhat more raggedy and well-used, given that Junmyeon designed both, but, because Baekhyun prefers to work downstairs (which is significantly more secure than the upstairs) it doesn’t see much love.

At least, until Baëkhyun practically moved in. He appreciates the lounge when Baekhyun doesn’t, just like he is now, stretched out on one of the couches already watching the latest television show. “You’ve only been up here for what, five minutes, and you’re already mid-episode?” Baekhyun teases, sitting down next to Baëkhyun with a _whumpf_.

The robot grins, “I’ve been waiting to catch up on this one,” he explains, allows Baekhyun to link their hands and then to lay down next to him. Baëkhyun wraps his arms around his creator easily, holding him close to his chest, chin resting on the top of his head.

Baekhyun patiently listens to the nearly nonexistent _whirring_ of Baëkhyun’s system for all of ten minutes before he begins to mouth at the robot’s clothed chest.

“And you call me the clingy one?” Baëkhyun murmurs, smoothing his hands down Baekhyun’s back, into his pants, and gripping his ass in two handfuls. Baekhyun gasps, fingers curling in Baëkhyun’s shirt, and grinds back into the clone’s touch.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s loud and angry, thudding prominently. Baekhyun immediately stiffens, shoving himself off the couch. He grabs the bat laying next to the door and taps on the screen-panel next to the door, activating the video footage. His expression twists and he yanks the door open, reaching out and hauling the person on the other side _inside_.

Jongdae trips in the hustle and falls to the ground with an _oof_. He quickly recovers, stumbling back up to his feet. “Sorry to drop in without notice,” he says, already turning, “but you and I need to go underground like, _now_.”

“I’m sorry?” Baekhyun asks, even as Baëkhyun sits up, wide-eyed.

“You know our previous employers? Not the lab, but before that. When we worked together?”

“You did _not_ bring them to my door,” Baekhyun says, jaw gaping. From the point on, it’s like he’s possessed. He runs all of the security measures on the front entrance to the shop, activating the silent alarm system, the video and audio recording, and, then tugging both Baëkhyun and Jongdae out of the lounge.

He activates another security measure, this one meant to decrease visibility not only in the lounge, but also downstairs, in the larger, workshop portion of his building. It’ll use a system of bright, flashing lights and lasers to make it difficult for any ocular tech to work and for any artificial systems to read the room and what’s inside it.

And then, he locks the second and third doors into the workshop, watching as the heavy-duty, steel doors slide into place and air-lock themselves tightly. It’ll take a battering ram to break them down—or an exceptional hacker.

“The more security I see you have, the more paranoid I think you are,” Jongdae comments—far too mild considering the situation he’s just put them in.

“Is it really being paranoid if I _have_ to use them?” Baekhyun snaps. He points to Baëkhyun, “Go grab my design files, scan them please—quick, I don’t care about detail, I can always reinvent them.”

Baëkhyun stumbles away to do as asked.

Baekhyun rolls out a shredder. “You start shredding them as soon as he scans them.”

“Are they really that important?”

“Some of them are custom pieces Jongdae, tailored for whoever wears them now—there’s personal information in those documents. And, I don’t want some corporate rats butchering my art.”

“What are you doing?”

“Downloading all of my digital shit and then corrupting it,” Baekhyun snarls, shoving Jongdae in Baëkhyun’s direction and scrambling for the massive computer systems lining his wall. He quickly jacks in, wiring himself into the mainframe.

Jongdae’s eyes widen, “Watch that there’s no one in there already—they’ll hit a bruce on you.”

“Jongdae, I’m _this_ close to hitting the big red switch on you,” Baekhyun shouts, angry. And then, his body goes rigid as he focuses on the cyberspace at hand.

Ten minutes later, the computer screens begin to flicker, and then, crash. Baekhyun detaches his wires, gasping, but alive. He seems satisfied. Must have completed his job.

The next second, he’s taking the bat he’d brought with him from the lounge and slamming it against the computers. Jongdae whimpers, soul absolutely crushed to see what looks like _thousands_ of eddies go down the drain. Baekhyun even takes the time to pry open the systems and bring the bat down on the more delicate features of the computer—making it nearly impossible for anyone to retrieve its information.

The lights in the workshop turn red. Baëkhyun looks up, then grabs the remaining files he’d yet to scan. His shirt begins to shift, and then, he tugs it up with one hand. His body seems to open, parting in clean, sectioned lines, and revealing a cavity in his abdomen, surrounded by chrome and wiring, but a cavity nonetheless. He shoves the files inside, uncaring for how crumpled they get, and his body resumes its natural form.

Baekhyun grabs Jongdae by the collar and hauls him into the storage room adjacent the main workshop. Baëkhyun shuts the door, dead-bolting it, and obscures them all in the pitch black.

For a second, Jongdae thinks that Baekhyun _has_ no other escape route—that he intends to just hide here.

And then, there’s a solid click and Jongdae’s falling into a putrid tunnel. He sits up, gagging at the smell, and watches as both Baekhyun and his clone make their way into the tunnel, much more adept at it. Baëkhyun is the one to close the hatch, again, locking it.

Baekhyun glares at Jongdae as he straps an assault rifle to his back, and fishes a massive chain and hook off the ground, hauling it over his shoulder with difficulty. Baëkhyun grabs the hook from his creator and climbs the ladder, hooking it through a ring at the base of the hatch. Even though he’s robotically more enhanced than Baekhyun, and leagues stronger than him as a result, his tendons visibly strain as he attaches the weight.

Jongdae’s more than impressed at this point. “How fucking scared _were_ you?” He asks, pushing himself to his feet and wiping grime from his hands to his pants.

“I took precautions that you _clearly_ did not,” Baekhyun says, calmer now that he’s in the tunnel. They still don’t have all that much time, but, if the indicators are correct, their unsavory company has yet to actually break through the lounge-level of the shop. “Why are they even on us?” He asks, taking Baëkhyun’s hand and massaging it as they begin to jog comfortably down the passage.

“Someone had to have sold you out,” Jongdae says. Instantly, Baekhyun’s thoughts blink to Jongin—son of a mega-corporation executive. “Would have had to have been from a couple of weeks ago though.”

“That significantly lengths the list of potential sellouts,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I didn’t have any particularly big clients that week. What are they after me for?”

“The tech you used to make Baëkhyun,” Jongdae says smoothly. “You know how I try and keep tabs on them as often as possible, just to make sure I don’t get caught _completely_ off-guard. That was the subject of the transmission I listened in on.”

“You know the voice of whoever ratted?”

“Not off the top of my head. Sounded familiar though.”

Baekhyun curses, then, tugs on Baëkhyun’s hand soothingly. He’s been quiet since they dropped into the tunnel—likely because he has not had clarification for _why_ they’re on the run, even if he possess Baekhyun’s same memories in a… computerized sense.

Thankfully, Baëkhyun waits to ask. They really should be keeping the talking to a minimum, especially now that they’re reaching the city’s sewage tunnels. 

Jongdae gags again. Baekhyun grins; he’d been deft enough to implant a few of his cybernetic programs prior to crashing his system—one of them was control over his senses.

Meaning, he can not only see with ease (while Jongdae is practically blind as a bat), but he’s also turned off his ability to smell since leaping into the tunnel. “If you weren’t such a cheap ass,” he says, “I could have made this a lot more pleasant on your nose.”

Jongdae curses at him, but quickly refocuses his attention on keeping whatever he’d had for breakfast _down_ his throat.

The sewers are disgusting, and as soon as his pants soak through, Baekhyun’s skin is crawling. He’s _revolted,_ the sludge is so bad.

Even Baëkhyun seems disgruntled.

“How long are we going to have to stay in this thing?” Jongdae complains.

“’Til we get to a friend of mine’s,” Baekhyun says. “Now be quiet, my security system won’t hold them forever.”

On cue, a great _bang_ echoes through the tunnel, bouncing off of the cement walls.

Baekhyun shoots Jongdae a pointed look, then leads them down another branch in the sewer system.

They walk an hour, if Baëkhyun’s judgment can be trusted (and it can), before Baekhyun grabs onto a ladder and hauls himself up it, shoving the manhole at the top open and lifting himself out, gun brandished openly in warning.

Baëkhyun follows next, crawling up the ladder with great dexterity, careful to keep his hands from touching the rungs Baekhyun’s sewage-covered boots had.

Jongdae comes up last, again, gagging and cursing as his hands inevitably squelch on the rungs. This, admittedly, turns Baekhyun’s stomach—but he’s also a little amused by Jongdae’s difficulties. Really, he can’t help it. Jongdae’s the one who got him into this shit—literally.

They garner a little bit of attention on the street. It’s not a district Jongdae’s especially familiar with, and Baëkhyun’s certain that he’s never even seen this place, but Baekhyun seems more than at ease.

At Baëkhyun’s questioning look, he says, “I removed this from your programs when I first created you. It’s behind the security vault in the cloud.” The one Baëkhyun knows the password to, but has never opened—knowing Baekhyun had things to keep private.

And then, he’s shoving them along, leading them into the alleyways as opposed to the open street. They smell awful, but that probably helps them remain uncontested. Even muggers don’t want to get covered in shit.

Eventually, they reach a rundown apartment building. Baekhyun leads them up the fire-escape and down the fourth floor hallway. He keys in a code at one of the doors, pushing it open with the barrel of his gun.

“Is that _really_ how you’re going to walk into my house,” comes a voice from inside. It’s distinctly robotic (meaning the robot was built for a purpose that didn’t necessitate realism), but it’s surprising emotive. Even Baëkhyun struggles to get his tone right sometimes, and this robot is right on par. It’s been so long since Baekhyun’s even spoke to him that it had slipped his mind.

“Kyungsoo,” he greets, kicking the door shut behind both of them. “I was hoping you still lived here.”

“It’s an office now. You just happened to catch me at the right time,” Kyungsoo says. They round the corner of the entrance hallway and finally, he comes into view. He’s made completely out of chrome, but the carve of his model is nearly perfect and distinctly unique. At the base of his neck, he’s stamped with _Sangseung_ ’s Seal and a model number. So, he’s one of Baekhyun’s many creations. “You look like shit,” Kyungsoo comments, appraising them.

Baekhyun laughs, “Smell like it too. We’re going to use your showers, and then I need you to take me out to the Bug.”

“Commanding,” Kyungsoo says in reply. But, he doesn’t disagree. If anything, he just returns to his spot at his computer, reattaching his wires, and again, re-enters the cyberspace, his limbs slackening.

Baekhyun leads them to the bathroom. He lets Baëkhyun through the door, then puts a hand out, blocking Jongdae from following them inside. “You’ll have it next,” he says, with a shit-eating grin, shutting the door in the hacker’s face and locking it too quickly for Jongdae to turn the handle and force his way in.

After a volley of banging, Jongdae gives up.

Baëkhyun’s already turned on the faucet and stripped out of his clothes. Baekhyun could kiss him, but thinks better of it. After they’re clean.

The water’s too hot for him, so he lessens the temperature just a bit. Baëkhyun doesn’t comment, only watches curiously, allowing them both a cursory wash with soap and water before he folds himself in Baekhyun’s embrace. Baekhyun washes his hair thoroughly, dotingly, and then helps to scrub down the rest of his body. Baëkhyun returns the favor, pausing to massage the tension out of Baekhyun’s neck and shoulders as well.

Then, the water begins to run cold and so they get out. Baekhyun dries his hair, then wraps a towel around his waist. Baëkhyun pats himself down, tussling his hair dry, but almost forgoes one when he leaves the room. He’s amused at the way Baekhyun chokes and grapples for a towel to tie around his clone’s waist, both eyebrows arching blithely.

“Don’t forget you wear _my_ body too,” Baekhyun whispers, lips hot against Baëkhyun’s ear. “And it’s not for Jongdae or Kyungsoo to see.”

“Only for me?” Baëkhyun asks, cocking his head. His hair flops into his face cutely.

“Only for you,” Baekhyun agrees, tucking the towel in place and slapping his clone’s ass. They unlock the bathroom door, careful to avoid Jongdae as he breezes past them, bee-lining for the shower.

They’re cautious as they walk down the hall, delicately avoiding their dark green-brown footprints on the tile. Thankfully, Kyungsoo’s running a cleaning bot down the hallway, and although it’s working slowly, it’s getting the job done right.

“Have you still got my go-bag here?” Baekhyun asks.

Kyungsoo points at the ceiling. Baëkhyun notices that the tile he points at is slightly discolored from the rest. He watches as Baekhyun pulls over a chair and stands up, pushing the tile in and reaching up into the hole.

He drops a bag down from it, then, slings a second over his shoulders. He replaces the tile and the chair. Then drops the bag he’d put over his shoulder on the ground and turns to the first one he’d dropped down.

He unzips it and tugs out some of the clothes packed inside. Everything is black and unassuming. He puts a pair of cargo pants and a sweatshirt in Baëkhyun’s hands, then, a heavy style of jacket. “Get dressed, let’s see if these things still fit.”

And while Baëkhyun hurriedly dresses himself, Baekhyun does the same. His outfit is an exact match for Baëkhyun’s—except that he’s tugging a black mask (with a reflective, nonsensical print) over his nose and chin.

He gives Baëkhyun an affectionate pat, “You look good,” he says, regarding the clothes. Indeed, Baëkhyun does. It’s a different look for him and, for once, it actual brings out his more artificial features. Makes him look dangerous. It excites Baekhyun in a way he hadn’t expected. But now’s not the time.

He turns to the second bag he’d grabbed and unzips it. There are two assault rifles inside, as well as a sleeker, much more finely made sniper-style rifle. Baekhyun passes Baëkhyun one of the assault rifles, which lights up in the robot’s grip as it calibrates to his system.

Baekhyun locks in the scope of the sniper rifle, loading it and wiring into the port at the base of the gun, awakening it. He stands there and manually calibrates his weapon, connecting it to his cybernetic cloud so that weapon and system can speak to one another. This one was custom made by an old friend, and, considering that old friend is probably a part of the team on his tail right now, it might just be poetic justice to snipe a few of them with it.

“So,” Kyungsoo says, spinning his chair around, “What is it this time? You went a whole decade fairly quiet, so…”

“Apparently _Yogsim Corp_. got to talking with one of my clients—still not sure who—and they mentioned Baëkhyun. It’s got them on my case, it seems,” Baekhyun explains. Kyungsoo’s gaze flicks over to Baëkhyun. He hadn’t really been _introduced_ quite yet, but Kyungsoo’s a clever robot and an even more clever wirehead. He’s probably hacked into both of their systems already and taking a perusal.

Baekhyun’s long since stopped trying to block Kyungsoo out. Now, he just tries to learn from him.

“And Jongdae?”

“Well, he’s never kept a particularly low-profile. They’ve been chasing him for a while. He only just got me wrapped up in it,” Baekhyun says easily. Speak of the devil, because Jongdae chooses that moment to reappear. Baekhyun tosses him a pair of cargos and a shirt wordlessly.

Jongdae drops his towel right there. Baekhyun looks away, intent on ignoring his friend’s nudity, but Baëkhyun watches almost interestedly until Jongdae notices and makes an effort of covering up.

When Baëkhyun returns his gaze to Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, his expression is level. He doesn’t make any jokes, doesn’t blush or shy away.

Baekhyun likes that about him.

“Can we get on the move? I’m worried we’ll run into them the more we stay in town,” Baekhyun says. Kyungsoo sighs, thought it sounds more like the whirring of a computer fan, and gets to his feet.

“Let’s go, then,” he says taking them out to a car, parked in the building’s garage. It’s a junker sort of thing, but, it’ll get the job done. Baekhyun takes the backseat with his clone, Jongdae takes passenger, and Kyungsoo—of course—drives.

***

“So, is the _Bug_ the same bug I’m thinking of?” Jongdae asks.

Baekhyun looks over briefly, loathe to take his eyes off the road ahead—they just hit the outskirts of the city, and Baekhyun really isn’t ready to take any chances with the gangs that hang out around here. “He’s a dataslave, if that’s the one you’re thinking of?”

“I thought we were running from corpos, not heading right to them,” Jongdae says, eyes narrowing.

“Bug’s a good guy. He used to pull files for me back when we both worked at _Yogsim_. That’s how I always got my hands on the latest militech programs and whatnot. He’s good at what he does.”

“And what exactly can he do for us?”

“Well, I intend to get a-” Baekhyun abruptly stops speaking. Baëkhyun shifts in his seat, following his creator’s gaze. Jongdae too, turns around to look straight ahead—cursing when he does so. “Baëkhyun, get down,” Baekhyun says, quiet.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It’s probably better that Baëkhyun be the one to get out with me. His body can take more damage than yours.” After a shared beat of silence, Baëkhyun nods. When the car rolls to a slow stop outside of the roadblock ahead, it’s he and Kyungsoo that slink out of the car.

Baekhyun watches from inside, glaring through the tinted windows and sizing up their opposition.

“Tunnel’s closed,” one of the junkers says. He’s the leader of their small group of three, but, there has to be more people hanging around. Such a pithy group can’t possibly create the type of roadblock that stands in front of them. If Baekhyun had all of his tools, he’d be able to launch a big enough explosive into it to clear the way, but, given how quickly and frantically he’d been forced to abandon shop, now they’re stuck.

“Tunnel doesn’t close,” Kyungsoo says, shifting on his feet.

“Now it does,” the junker says, shrugging. “At least, until you pay the toll.”

Kyungsoo looks away. Baëkhyun, though, speaks up, “How much is it?”

“Fifty eddies.”

Baekhyun watches as both robots consider the offer. The only problem with Baëkhyun being part of the negotiation team is that he’s not experienced enough to know that even if they pay the amount, they’re going to get mugged. There’s not going to be a way to resolve this _without_ violence.

Baëkhyun appears at the side of the car, pulling it open just a crack so that he can speak to Baekhyun. Before he can even say a thing, he stiffens, gasping.

His body twitches mechanically, eyes blinking open and shut. The groan that leaves his throats is less a groan of pain, and more a robotic hum—his system struggling to make his brain’s synapses meet. It fails, and Baëkhyun stumbles backwards, away from the car door, twitching all the way.

He collapses in a heap.

Jongdae has Baekhyun by the collar before he can leap out of the car. He’s shouting, but Baekhyun can’t hear him. His ears are ringing—shock written all over his face. Then, the car’s moving.

Baekhyun nearly screams, turning to see that Kyungsoo’s ducked down in the driver’s seat and jacked into the vehicle’s mainframe—doing everything he can to keep his head out of view. He’s practically _thrown_ the car into drive, sending them crashing through the roadblock.

Bullets pepper the side of the car, courtesy of the scavengers, but, they aren’t the reason for the sudden escape. No. That enemy lies a few hundred feet behind them: a corporate-style hoverplane and the sniper inside.

Jongdae shoves Baekhyun’s head down just as another bullet goes careening through the rear window. They disappear into the darkness of the Tunnel, losing the hoverplane almost immediately.

At that point, he just goes into shock. It’s uncharacteristic for him; he _always_ knows how to handle a situation. But, to see Baëkhyun go down…

He sits numbly in the back seat, arms wrapped around his legs.

Thankfully, Jongdae and Kyungsoo don’t comment. They wouldn’t understand the pain he’s in.

***

“He’s back online." The voice is static—delivered through a speaker system.

Baëkhyun’s auditory capabilities are the first to reboot. His system runs through a check-list, gradually waking him up from a slumber as heavy as bricks.

He regains his sight, revealing to him a room as blank as a sheet of paper. Crisp, white, medical in quality. He’s alone inside of it wired to a port in the ceiling. He feels no pain—really, feels nothing at all.

He stands there, aware, for all of fifteen minutes before a door clicks open. It’s behind him, out of sight, but Baëkhyun expects to see his visitors in a few seconds. He’s patient enough for that.

Indeed, his visitors _do_ step into his field of vision. There are two. Baëkhyun’s system runs their SINs. It comes up with a hit for both of them. President Kim and Dr. Park. There are articles written on the both of them, meaning that they are popular enough to have the media’s attention, but Baëkhyun doesn’t bother to flit through the information at this moment in time. He’ll have time later.

“What exactly does _online_ mean?” President Kim asks, her voice hard, clinical.

“His system’s been rebooted. We can’t break into the cloud at this time. It appears to have been disabled. But, he can’t access his cloud either. We’ve stripped him down to his base code. He has no possession of his creator’s memories, and his mannerisms have been reset,” Dr. Park explains, “think of him as something _close to,_ but not quite a blank slate. His coding was… exceptionally well-made—he’s a work of art, really—so, even though we’re working off of base code only, he’s still far more advanced than the top militech robots.”

The President’s eyebrows raise, her lip curling into some semblance of a smile. “How fast can we put him on the streets?”

“For what purpose?”

“I want his inventor. _Yogsim_ wants him too, but… I’d like my hands on him first. We can give them the scraps once we’re finished with him.”

Dr. Park nods, “I’ll start making edits to his code.”


	2. My Artificial Mind

A week after arriving at Kyungsoo and Chanyeol’s shared bunker out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, Baekhyun still shows no signs of even _speaking_. He walks around with a stormy face, his eyes dark, hateful—his body rigid with stress and tension. The one time Jongdae tries to sit down and talk to him, he gets a pistol pointed in his face. The message is clear—Baekhyun wants nothing to do with the present company.

Until Chanyeol, known as ‘thebug’ to anyone on the net, pulls up Baekhyun’s cloud on the monitors that surround their living room. Baekhyun glances at it, gets ready to get up and _leave_ , and then, he stops. In the corner of the screen, a list of error codes flash ominously.

“Jongdae jacked into you while you were in shock in the car. He disconnected all of your robot’s-”

“Baëkhyun,” he corrects softly, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Yeah- uh- he disconnected all of Baëkhyun’s links to your shared cloud. For the past few days, someone’s been trying to hack into it, but your security is… extremely dense. Jongdae tried prying around in the stuff you’d locked even Baëkhyun out of and couldn’t get in, despite having a physical, wired connection to your system port. It’s really impressive,” Chanyeol says, “so, I’m actually not too worried about whoever’s trying to hack you right now. The problem is… they’ve obviously gone ahead and harvested Baëkhyun. I don’t know what type of damage he sustained, but-”

“Sniper shot to the head. Right temple. It would have destroyed some memory systems, but, he’d be salvageable.” He takes a breath, turning an accusatory look towards Jongdae and Kyungsoo. “ _I_ could have salvaged him if you’d just have _let_ me grab him.”

“We didn’t have time,” Kyungsoo says. “Unless you’d like to have had a bullet in you as well?” He looks up at Baekhyun—his eyes are so robotic, so _false_. “Because I assure you, it’d be _much_ harder to salvage you. And if they’d managed… well they can do worse to you than they can a robot.”

Baekhyun wants to argue, if only for the sake of arguing. He doesn’t want to give in so easily. He feels like it’d be doing Baëkhyun a disservice. Feels like it would be a betrayal. And yet… “I need to get back to the city.”

“Clearly, that’s not a good idea,” Jongdae murmurs, flabbergasted.

“I want him back.”

“Make another,” Jongdae says, looking away even as he suggests it. Good thing, too, because the look Baekhyun shoots him is _murderous._

“No. I want _him_ back and I want whoever thought they could take him from me zeroed. Hell, see if you can flatline whoever’s trying to hack into my space now,” Baekhyun says flatly.

“I’m not that type of decker,” Chanyeol says, leaning back in his chair. “But, if you want to go back to the city, by all means, do. I don’t want you or Jongdae here. You’re like corpo-magnets and… considering I work for corpos, I don’t want the association.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “You have to wait a bit, even though it’s been a week, there’s probably still a stake-out at the Tunnel. They’ll kill or capture you as soon as you so much as _attempt_ to go back for him.”

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated that Kyungsoo’s right.

Chanyeol speaks up again, “I suggest you stay off the open net. They’ll have sensors on you for sure. I mean, you’re a skilled enough decker to mask your location and identity, I’m sure, but just one slip up and your cover’s blown wide open. I wouldn’t risk it, personally.” He shrugs, “I mean, if you’re going to do anything right now, it’s lay low. No word in or out. Don’t even tell Myeon.”

Baekhyun had no intention of doing so. Has had all of his communication devices either physically destroyed or shut down since they lost Baëkhyun. “I want to know how they’re tracking us so easily,” he says calmly, turning and looking directly at Jongdae.

The hacker puts up his hands placatingly, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’m not in any rush to get caught either, so…”

“Jongdae’s like a beacon,” Chanyeol interrupts, “He’s a completely null space on the grid and in the cyberspace. Because of that, he’s easy to notice, easy to track. I already added a few tags to him, though. He’s not as easy to find now.”

Baekhyun snorts, then turns away, disappearing back into the guest bedroom.

***

Two weeks later, sees him in the passenger seat of one of Kyungsoo’s many junker cars. This one is better armored than their last one had been, and the tech is more defensive than the last car. Still, they take the back way into the city.

Jongdae had stayed behind with Chanyeol, figuring he could learn a thing or two from the dataslave decker.

Which is all well and good, because Baekhyun’s ire had steadily been mounting the longer he was without Baëkhyun—and though he and Jongdae really do go way back, they have a way of grating on one another’s nerves to the highest degree.

“Promise me you’re not going to go on some dumb suicide mission?” Kyungsoo says, voice quiet, barely able to be heard over the rumble of the wheels.

Baekhyun shrugs. “I really would prefer _not_ to die. I’m just going to reconnect a bit, take a look around, see what’s going on. I’m used to this, remember? _Yogsim_ ’s been after me for like a decade and this is the closest they’ve ever gotten to me.”

Kyungsoo nods, pulls the truck over on the side of the road. They’re around the center of the Westriver Districts, the place where Baekhyun feels most at home. He pops open the door and gets out, shouldering his weapons and go-bag of necessities. He waves Kyungsoo off, then quickly ducks into the shadow of the vendor awnings and whatnot, pulling his reflective, anti-facial recognition mask up over his face.

The first place he goes is _Butterfly Effect_ , knowing that, realistically, it’s his safest bet upon return to the city. He takes the back entrance, which runs from an old abandoned building through an underground tunnel and into the back of the bar. At his appearance there, one of the bartenders whisks him into the private lounge, keeping him carefully concealed until he’s inside.

The door clicks shut.

A beat later, he’s slammed up against it, an incredibly strong hand pressed up against his throat nearly crushing his windpipe.

Minseok’s clearly not happy. “Where the _fuck_ is Jongdae?”

Baekhyun eyes him carefully, then, taps his hand—almost condescending. Minseok releases his throat, but wrests his hand in Baekhyun’s jacket, keeping him pinned against the door. Baekhyun takes a shaking breath, rubbing his throat with one hand, then says, “He’s in a bunker outside the Tunnel. _Yogsim_ came after us.”

Minseok relaxes, clearly believing Baekhyun. To be fair, what reason would Baekhyun have had to lie. Minseok would find out eventually, and that’d just be delaying the inevitable.

“Where’s Junmyeon?” he asks, already regaining his composure. Minseok nods towards the back.

“Went out a little while ago. Said he’d be back in a bit. In the meantime, want to explain Yogsim? Jongdae’s never told me and I’m getting tired of having him disappear on me without any explanation.”

Baekhyun shrugs, seating himself on the couch. He doesn’t normally talk about _Yogsim_ —doesn’t like having people know that a corporation is on his tail and has been for years now—but, Minseok _is_ Jongdae’s right hand at this point. Really, what can he lose?

“Jongdae and I both used to work as dataslaves for _Yogsim_ Corporation, which specializes in two areas—personal and commercial cyber-security, and military-grade cybernetics. I started in cybersecurity, but ended up branching off into militech development and design. I excelled at it. Jongdae, however, stayed in the cyber-security side of things, which would have been fine ‘cept that we were both breaking our contracts. Jongdae would plant malware in security systems, would steal _Yogsim’s_ security programs, you know—the whole shebang,” Baekhyun explains, “I was selling militech designs on the black market and then, at the same time, creating programs designed to fuck over the militech programs. We both got caught and ditched together.”

Minseok grins, “Sounds about right for you two. I didn’t know you had a background as a decker, though?”

“How else would I be able to code my own cybernetics? And provide them security? I had to have been a decker, Minseok,” Baekhyun says, “I just don’t like the net. I liked designing and inventing, so I just started up shop as a ripperdoc.”

“And what are you now?” Minseok asks, eyes narrowed.

Baekhyun pauses, “Figure I’m about to be something of a Ronin, don’t you think?”

“Got someone to assassinate?” Minseok asks, cocking his head. Baekhyun looks at him, then motions at the empty spot right next to him. Minseok nods slowly, “I see. And if you get your joytoy back?”

“I like working as a ripperdoc, Minseok. If I get my boy back, I’ll go back to doing that. Maybe not here, but somewhere else. When you’re the top of your class… you can find work anywhere.”

“Indeed.”

The door clicks open, revealing Junmyeon. He pauses at the sight of Baekhyun, then sighs in relief. “I was worried, you know,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says, knowing he doesn’t sound genuine. “We left in a hurry.”

“I could tell. Your shop was fucking ransacked,” Junmyeon reveals. “Everything was looked through. I saw you seemed to destroy all your designs though?”

“Baëkhyun scanned them to the cloud. There are still a few paper copies that I left with Soo, but otherwise I have everything logged.”

“Where is Baëkhyun?” Junmyeon asks, “I can grab him something to-”

Baekhyun shakes his head. Junmyeon catches on without him having to say another word. He sizes Baekhyun up. “Is that why you’re back in the city and Jongdae’s not? Finishing up some business?”

“It’d seem. Bug said he seemed to have been salvaged and I’m inclined to get him back if that’s the case.”

“It’s more than that,” Junmyeon murmurs.

Baekhyun sighs, “Yeah. I want whoever shot him zeroed. I want whoever ordered him shot zeroed. I want whoever tampered with _him_ since he’s gone missing zeroed.”

“All that anger’s going to make you reckless,” Junmyeon comments. He passes Baekhyun a glass of something disgusting—not his usual drink, but what’s needed considering Baekhyun’s mood at the moment.

Baekhyun doesn’t answer. Only tips the drink down his throat. Then, he stands, brushing his hands down his pant legs. He walks close to Junmyeon, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m going to be staying with Yixing. If anyone comes looking for me, recommend they go to someone else. And you don’t come looking for me. If I have something to say to you, I’ll come here. All right?”

Junmyeon nods, patting him on the back as Baekhyun brushes past him and out the door.

***

Yixing had taken him in readily. They’d always agreed to be that safety net for one another, and Baekhyun’s truly falling on that now. Besides, he likes being able to wake up without a feeling of dread hanging over his head.

Is he still angry? Of course, and his mood is often stormy, cutting, and sharp. But, Yixing had recognized Baekhyun’s newfound abrasiveness and mellowed it out. Though, when he wasn’t around, Baekhyun had no way of mediating it himself.

He’s just woken up, flipping his blankets off his legs. It’s still dark outside, but, the alarms are set. Yixing has to be out, then. Thinking back, he’d mentioned going on a brief trip. Must have left sometime between Baekhyun falling asleep and waking up.

He looks out, eyes straining. Something’s not quite right. His body tenses as it finally finds the source of his discomfort.

Just barely silhouetted by the light spilling over from the other room, stands a figure, startlingly familiar, but whose presence is wholly _impossible_.

He reaches over, swiping his hand over the sensor on his nightstand. The lamp flickers to life, illuminating the room.

Baekhyun pauses, his face melting first from shock to joy, his eyes crinkling, voice choking in his throat. “Hyun-ah?” he murmurs.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else, for the robot is striding into the room and practically throwing himself at Baekhyun. Except that, this is no gentle, homecoming embrace.

It’s an attempted murder.

Baekhyun sees the glint of a blade in his hand just before it comes down on his face. On reflex, his cybernetic attachments activate, the plates in his arms opening and revealing mantis-like blades. One of which parries Baëkhyun’s would-be-killer blow. The other one lashes out, striking Baëkhyun across the face.

The robot reels back. It’s Baëkhyun—that’s _his_ face, after all—but, his expression is cold, removed, artificial.

Baekhyun shoves him off his lap, but Baëkhyun holds tightly enough that he drags Baekhyun off the bed with him. The tussle, wrestling against one another. Baekhyun’s blades aiming to temporarily put his creation out of commission, Baëkhyun’s aiming to maim, to kill.

Baekhyun ends up on top, pinning the robot down with his weight. The blade flies out of the bot’s hand, but the plates in his arms open up and soon _his_ pair of mantis-blades are locked with Baekhyun’s, glinting in the lamplight.

“Baëkhyun-ah, it’s me!” Baekhyun snarls, eyes wide. He’s half horrified, half infuriated. _Who_ did this to his Baëkhyun.

The robot bears no sign of recognition. The scratch Baekhyun had deliver across his face is a clean-cut line. Baëkhyun appears not to even notice it. He’s struggling, pitting his strength against Baekhyun’s. The second their blades slide apart, Baëkhyun will win the upper hand in this fight, and Baekhyun doesn’t know how that bodes for him. “Baëkhyun,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

A flicker of recognition passes across Baëkhyun’s face. It’s barely perceptible, just the slightest widening of eyes, the most minuscule glimpse of real _focus_ , like a window to Baëkhyun’s soul had been opened. It’s a glimpse of _humanity_ , no matter how artificial Baëkhyun is.

In the barest moment, his fight slackens. “I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun says quickly, shoving his weight against the robot.

Baëkhyun’s mantis-blade snap and break at the joints, one of them splintering into Baekhyun’s gut, the other one ripping a massive tear in the robot’s abdomen. A full body twitch runs through his body and Baëkhyun gasps, eyes blinking, fingers curling. Then, he regains himself.

Baekhyun watches as the tear begins to “heal” itself, regenerating before his very eyes.

The same can’t be said for _his_ wound. So, he does the only thing he can do in that moment. He shoves Baëkhyun’s skull into the floor and then jumps up, scrambling for the door, one hand pressed to his bloody side. He hears footsteps, the groaning of metal. Baëkhyun’s following him, and quickly.

He shoves open the front door and practically falls down the porch steps and out onto the street. The bouncers to a club just a few buildings down look his way. He must be a sight to see in only his boxers and a tee, with blood pouring from his side.

He takes off down the street, barefoot, uncaring of any glass he may step on. He can fix it later. Right now, he needs to escape. He glances behind him.

Baëkhyun slams him into the ground, fist reeled back to deliver a punch that Baekhyun’s _sure_ can kill. He dodges it, just barely, and gasps at the sound of concrete cracking beneath Baëkhyun’s fist. He swings with one of his blades, forcing Baëkhyun to dodge if he wants to avoid a system failure.

Then, he bucks up, unseating the clone for a bare few seconds.

Again, he takes off running, straight for the bouncers.

He doesn’t stop and ask for help. They wouldn’t help him. All he does is yank open the door, twisting out of reach of their hands, and disappear inside the nightclub. It’s a psychedelic sort of place, with music that would soothe his anxiety in any other circumstance. But, he’s almost certain he’s going to die within the next hour if he doesn’t _disappear._

He leaves the nightclub through the back door, limping now, his pace impeded. He can’t run for much longer.

He continues jogging though, at an awkward lope, his entire body _screaming_ with pain.

And reaches a canal.

Without second thought, he vaults over the railing, plummeting into the murky water below.

He resurfaces a minute later, a little ways down from the place he’d jumped. He treads water silently, ignoring the pain in his side as best he can. He can’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear.

He moderates his breathing, then ducks back under the water, swimming blindly down the canal. He can’t even imagine what the water’s going to do to his open wound, but he hopes he can take care of it later. At least now he seems to have lost Baëkhyun.

Baekhyun’s heart shatters as the adrenaline wears off. Baëkhyun, his beloved Baëkhyun… what had _happened_ to him?

He finally finds a maintenance ladder on the opposite wall from the one he’d jumped inside on. He should find somewhere safe, but his body can’t handle any more stress. He collapses at the top of the ladder, wet, bedraggled, bleeding, and loses consciousness.

***

By some miracle, he wakes up.

In the haze of his eyes opening, he notices two things. The first is that he’s being cared for by bots. Familiar bots, at that. The second is that he’s inside a _very_ nice bedroom. He sits up, pushing the robot attendants away, it finally dawning on him why they’re familiar as he does so.

They’re the bots he made for Sehun.

Lo and behold, the tall, model-esque man appears at the doorway, framed by golden light. He’s so graceful, so beautiful leaned up against the doorframe. There’s absolutely _no_ reason for him to be here, though. Baekhyun had collapsed on the side of a canal in the Westriver Districts. Not in Eastriver, where Sehun and the rest of his rich friends live.

“How the _fuck_ did you end up with me?” Baekhyun asks, the pain finally reaching through his confusion. He lays back again, desperate to relieve some of the sharpness lacing up his side. It works—minimally.

“I was out with friends at one of the clubs. Tao had to vom and nearly tripped over you. I just happened to realize I _knew_ you. You looked like shit. Almost thought you were a meat puppet that had outlived its use.”

Baekhyun groans. “How fortuitous, and, if you _do_ see a meat puppet that hasn’t died yet, you should kill it. It’s a mercy at that point.”

“You _would_ choose that part to focus on. Why the hell were you bleeding out on the side of a canal? And where’s Baëkhyun?”

Something broken must flash across Baekhyun’s face, because Sehun’s immediately backtracking and apologizing, realizing he’s overstepped. Baekhyun can’t bring himself to tell him what’s happened, especially since his pain is returning in waves, no longer manageable.

He passes out again.

***

And comes to with a gasp, a tall, broad-shouldered figure sat on the bed next to him, a syringe in hand.

“Kim Jongin,” Baekhyun wheezes, “pleasure to meet again.” And then, he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as whatever drug he’d been injected with courses through his bloodstream, burning a satisfying path in its wake, numbing his pain.

“We need to talk,” Jongin says seriously.

“I’m out of commission at the moment. No tools, no programs. I’m not doing any enhancements. The _Sangseung_ is closed for business,” Baekhyun says, still panting as he tries to get used to the weightless feeling the drugs have given him.

“I mean about Baëkhyun and about you. I didn’t realize it until too late. That enhancement you gave me. It got hacked.”

“My security is top of the line,” Baekhyun murmurs, almost angrily. He raises his chin defiantly, until Jongin’s next words.

“My father is a corporate executive. You are aware of this. My _mother_ , though, leads a far more… _prominent_ lifestyle as City President. She has a _team_ of good deckers. Even the best security will fail eventually, and I hardly think you were using your best on some glitterboy’s enhancements.”

Silence. Then, Baekhyun’s launching himself at Jongin, aiming to claw out his eyes and _feed_ them to him.

Jongin catches his wrists, though, and pins him back down to the bed. “Hear me out,” he says, “my mother hacked into _my_ cyberware. I’m not happy about it. I didn’t authorize it, and I don’t want it to happen again. But, she did it, and she retrieved the footage of your establishment. She’d heard rumors from _Yogsim_ , but the footage was confirmation.”

“I still don’t see why I should trust you, or what she hopes to gain.”

“My mother wants immortality, and your robot seems like the closest step to that.”

“Your mother’s fucking insane,” Baekhyun spits.

Jongin nods, agreeing, “I know. And immortality… it’s not possible. They’ve tried with cryogenics, they’ve tried with bioware, but they haven’t gotten anywhere. You’re Baëkhyun, though, seems like a solid bet and _you’re_ the genius who created him, who programmed him. She wants you alive.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” Baekhyun tears his wrists out of Jongin’s hands and sits up, pushing him back and out of his personal space. “Besides, he’s _not me_. He looks mostly identical to me, but his thought patterns are different, his memories, even, are different. We share a great degree and used to be constantly aware of one another’s… state of mind, but we never thought for one another. He’s a living AI, but he’s… still artificial, no matter how real he looks or acts.”

“She doesn’t _know_ that.”

“Well, she _should_. It’s literally impossible to clone your consciousness. There’s no connection quick enough, no program perfect enough to do so. AI cannot _feel_ to the degree we do. They _learn_ and they _mimic_ , but it’s not innate. You _have_ to teach them. If she cloned herself, you’d merely get a robot that looks like her, that acts like her, and then, once _she_ died, that robot would run until it exhausted its code. Which would eventually happen. Your mother knows absolutely nothing about AI.”

“She’s power-hungry. She refuses to see the truth,” Jongin agrees. “But she’s not going to stop hunting you until she gets what she wants.”

“She’s going to be disappointed,” Baekhyun says. “And, I’m not going to work with her. I’d sooner let Baëkhyun kill me than give her what she wants by feeding her some lie.”

He pauses, then, levels Jongin with a cold look. “In fact, I’d rather see her dead. For what she’s done to Baëkhyun. She and everyone that helped her.”

Jongin sucks in a breath. “Is it possible for you to just… make her a blank slate.”

“I don’t deal with puppet chips. I want you to look at me Kim Jongin. She _stole_ someone I loved and I’m not a good guy. Honestly, is anyone these days? I’m going to kill her. We don’t have to be friends if that bothers you.”

“If I set up a meeting, will you meet with her? Please? I can make sure it’s safe for you as long as you promise not to kill her then. Please give her a chance to see the truth and remedy her mistakes,” Jongin asks. He’s a bleeding heart of sorts, Baekhyun realizes, and startlingly loyal to a family member who clearly doesn’t care about his privacy or autonomy.

“Fine,” Baekhyun says, sneering.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jongin says. He exits the room.

***

Baekhyun leaves that evening, leaving a note for Sehun that says he’s welcome to redeem a favor at any time. Out on the street, he’s more aware. He’s in pain, and his body’s healing much slower than it really needs to (hell, if the shop was still safe, he could have fixed himself up in a couple of hours), but he’s mobile.

He’s also on the hunt. For Baëkhyun.

Because, in his conversation with Jongin earlier, he’d had an idea. And it’s probably a death wish, trying to find his clone (after all, Baëkhyun hadn’t seemed particularly _capture_ -oriented), but just the simple _chance_ of his idea working is enough to power his steps, sharpen his gaze.

He goes to the _Butterfly Effect_. If he could think of a single place Baëkhyun might be staking out—that would be it. That, or Yixing’s house.

But, the _Butterfly Effect_ means more to them.

Though…

He pauses mid-stride.

_Sangseung_ means the most to them. It’s where Baekhyun painstakingly carved out Baëkhyun’s original mold. It’s where he wrote all of his programs. It’s where Baëkhyun was _born_.

It’s almost… painful to return to the shop and see its front entrance blown off its hinges. The first floor lounge is absolutely torn apart. Lights hang from the ceiling, their wires severed, their bulbs shattered. His couch has been splintered and burned. The television set and stove for making tea and other snacks are similarly ruined.

He bites back a cry, biting his bottom lip and looking up in order to keep from crying.

_Sangseung_ had been his home, and now it’s nothing but a ghost of itself.

He walks down the staircase leading into the workshop, already prepared for the sight at the bottom.

Amongst all of the wreckage, Baëkhyun sits perched on the worktable. He looks up at Baekhyun’s appearance, artificial gaze zeroing in on the visitor. He doesn’t smile. Just reaches out for the pistol sat on the table with him.

“That’s really not necessary,” Baekhyun says, sitting on the last step in the staircase. There’s only a meter or two between he and his clone—who sits ramrod straight, unsure of how to handle the situation.

He must not have expected Baekhyun to come here.

“Do you miss it?” He asks.

Baëkhyun cocks his head, confused. “Miss what?”

“The shop. You and I spent a lot of time here.”

“Did we?” Baëkhyun murmurs, glancing around the room. His eyes rove over everything, but, he doesn’t seem to truly feel at place. Really, he shouldn’t. This Baëkhyun is one that has been stripped of everything that made him seem human. This Baëkhyun’s too cold.

“I created you here. At least, the core of what you are. Your mold, your scans, your programming. All of it right here,” Baekhyun says, holding his hands out in a way that encapsulates the entire room. “And then, after I made you—you’d help me with work. With designing, with programming, with clients.” He watches Baëkhyun carefully, keen for any sign of recognition. “You were better with clients than I was. I was too brusque. Too abrasive. You had the advantage of experiencing a very small, generally positive microcosm of our world. It made you kinder, more optimistic.”

Baëkhyun shakes his head. Of course, it’d all sound fake if he had no memory of it. But, Baekhyun speaks genuinely, and he knows Baëkhyun can tell that much.

“Why are you telling me this?” Baëkhyun asks, voice just shy of anger.

Baekhyun shrugs, “I figured you may as well know what they did to you. What they took from _us_.”

Baëkhyun’s gaze narrows and he stalks forward. Baekhyun rises up to meet him, allows him to shove him into the stairwell rails. Baëkhyun grip is bruisingly tight, but his eyes are so angry, so confused, so bereaved of something he doesn’t even know he’s missing.

All Baekhyun does is open the port in his wrist. It’s a deft move, taking only a second, and he’s jacking into his clone’s system.

Both of them slump as Baekhyun’s program runs its course. It’s not a guarantee, but… it’s a shot. All he’s hoping is that the program he’d written in advance is enough to not only brute-force its way through the programming written by President Kim’s team of deckers, but also to re-establish Baëkhyun’s original programming—all of it having been stored in the last cloud update.

Ten minutes later, Baekhyun yanks his wires out, gasping.

Baëkhyun’s body twitches. A ripple that runs down from his head to his toes. His eyes remain shut.

And then, they blink open, immediately meeting Baekhyun’s.

Baekhyun holds his breath. “Hyun-ah?” he questions, voice barely above a whisper.

The robot’s face doesn’t change for a solid second, a second in which Baekhyun’s heart _plummets_.

And then, Baëkhyun’s expression is softening and he’s nudging his forehead against Baekhyun’s, touching the tips of their noses together. “What happened?” He asks, ever so innocent. He has _no_ recollection of what happened.

“So, _so_ much,” Baekhyun murmurs, pulling Baëkhyun close, anchoring himself to the clone. Simply _appreciating_ having him back. But, weighing on the back of his mind is the simple fact that, until he’s shown his enemies he’s not to be toyed with, he and Baëkhyun will _never_ be safe.

Hell, even after he takes care of their pressing concerns, they likely won’t be safe. But by then, they’ll be free. He’s ready to ditch town, maybe even catch a commercial shuttle off of Earth entirely. After all, he’s heard that the colonies on Mars are especially suitable for people like him.

“I have business to take care of. I’ll meet you at the _Butterfly Effect_ once it’s done, all right?”

Baëkhyun holds his gaze, looking loathe to separate from him (if only he knew how separate they’ve been), then nods. “Don’t be late.”

“Never.”

***

For someone with so many resources, President Kim is far too trusting in the word of others. And, she’s certainly not clever enough to recognize a trap before she’s walking into it.

She’s quick to react, sure, but… not quick enough. Baekhyun watches coldly as she collapses to the ground, her bodyguards swarming around her. _Some bodyguards they were_ , he thinks condescendingly, already packing up his rifle and scope.

When it’s reported on by the media, there’ll be no named assassin. It’ll likely be attributed to some mob. That’s fine with Baekhyun. He didn’t do it for fame. Didn’t do it because he wanted to sow fear. He did it to ensure _she_ couldn’t come after him again. It’s not the end of it all. He’ll have to deal with _Yogsim_ still. But… it’s the end of that particular chapter.

She’d been a bigger threat. Had been clever enough to hit him where it hurt—Baëkhyun. Perhaps, in the end, it’s a compliment to her skills that he _had_ to dispose of her.

He leaves the area before the military can move in and secure a perimeter, arriving at the _Butterfly Effect_ with time to spare.

“Baëkhyun,” he calls out, pushing his way into the private room. The clone looks up, grinning. “C’mon, we’re going on vacation.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want.” Baekhyun’s car waits outside, already poised to go.

“I want to go somewhere quiet,” Baëkhyun says, slipping into the passenger seat. “Is there a place like that?”

Baekhyun hums, “I’ll find one if there is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think with comments or kudos. 
> 
> You can also find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/syzygybbh) !


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